Whittemore: The Rise of a Pack
by mcrowthe1
Summary: Jackson Whittemore was whisked away to London by his father after the events of his death and resurrection. In London he finds himself thrust into a world of new packs, late nights, clubs, drugs, sexuality, and revelations. This already shattered man tries to rebuild his perception of himself. Rated T, but may change to M for violence/sexuality later. Will contain slash later.


**Chapter One: Nightlife**

The full moon hung high over the bright streets of London, and loud electronic music filled the air. When he had first moved here, Jackson didn't expect London to be anything exciting. He just wanted to be back home with Lydia, with his new pack; they were all he could think about, and he resented his 'parents' for bringing him to this place.

Trying to fight his transformation, Jackson laid in his bed in their small Clapham Junction flat, and thought about his anchor: Lydia. Despite what she had done, he couldn't help but hold onto his memories of her and her love. She had become a critical part of his identity.

"Jackson, are you okay in there?" came his adoptive father's voice from the hallway.

"Yes, David, I'm fine!" Jackson struggled to get out, somewhat furious that David came near him on the full moon, with the audacity to ask if he was okay.

"Okay, son, well if you need anything, your mother and I are right next door."

He heard the door shut to their room, and got out of bed. _There has got to be something I can hold myself down with_, he thought to himself as he frantically searched his room for some kind of weight. He couldn't transform, not now.

The pain was getting worse and worse. Jackson looked down at his hands and saw the claws protruding, felt the fangs growing in his mouth. When he looked up in the mirror, he saw his bright blue eyes shining, the facial hair growing. Suddenly, he blacked out, the pain too much for him to bear.

A light breeze blew across his face, waking him suddenly. Jackson, startled, jumped to his feet, only to find himself in the middle of a park. It was morning, the sun shining brightly, so much that it hurt his eyes.

"About time you woke up, lad," came a voice behind him.

Jackson spun around, terrified that someone had seen him transform. Behind him stood a man, probably about 6' tall, very fit looking, with short brown hair, a scruffy beard, and a scar down his cheek. His eyes had a bright blue tint to them, and Jackson sensed that this man, too, was a werewolf.

He spoke again, in a soft, almost seductive voice. "How long ago did you receive the bite?"

Jackson wasn't sure whether to answer or not. "What are you talking about? What bite?"

"Do you take me for a fool?" asked the man. "I tracked you all night, making sure you didn't harm anyone. There's something unique about you."

"Well then you should know, I could rip your face off!" Jackson retorted, trying to sound braver than he felt. In all reality, he felt sure that this man would kill him given the chance.

"How cute, the pup thinks he can fight a trained dog," said the man, in that same seductive voice. "Now, I know we haven't had the greatest of introductions, but if you want to fight, I think I can help you."

Jackson was taken aback by this sudden offer of help. "Help me what?" he asked, feeling caught off guard.

"Help you control your transformations. It's quite obvious you don't know how to," he said. "My name is Cole Hannigan, I belong to a pack around here. Who are you?"

"No offense, Cole, but you haven't given me the best reasons to trust you. I think I'd be better off on my own," said Jackson, again trying to sound brave. This time he was sure Cole sensed it.

"You know, you aren't incredibly skilled at hiding your fear. I can smell it on you."

"Look I'm not getting involved in a pack here. I already have a pack, where I belong!" Jackson said, trying to defend himself, and his fears.

"I can read you like a book, pup. Your pack abandoned you. That's why you can't control it anymore. You're a lowly omega," said Cole, with a cold and calculated expression. "Tell me your name, boy."

Jackson felt his fear overcoming him, and gave in. "Jackson Whittemore, from Beacon Hills, CA. I just moved here last month."

Cole looked uncertain, and a little taken aback after this revelation.

"What's that look for? Do you know something? You do don't you?!" asked Jackson, somewhat forcefully while he pressed for information.

"You need to meet with my pack. Immediately, you're coming with me," Cole responded, coldly. "There's someone you have to meet."

"I'm sorry, what? You think I'm going somewhere with you?" Jackson asked, almost laughing at the audacity of this stranger. "You can just go along on your merry way, sir."

"I don't quite think that's how its going to work. You, Jackson, are alone. You have no pack, you have no mate, and you have no family," Cole cut deep. "That much I can read just from your expressions and responses."

Cole stepped towards Jackson, extending a hand.

"Stay away from me!" Jackson yelled, hoping someone would hear. "You can't take me anywhere!"

"We'll see about that, friend," came a second voice, as a boy jumped out of a nearby tree. He had curly, jet black hair, tanned skin, and bright yellow eyes. He was a bit shorter than Cole, but he seemed to have a friendlier expression on his face. "The name's Declan Hale, my mother is our pack's leader. My family is from Beacon Hills."

Jackson stumbled backwards as he took in this information. _These people have connections to home...should I trust them?_ He thought to himself, and reconsidered how he would respond.

"Wait, you're a Hale? How the hell did I run into one of you as soon as I move to another country?" Jackson exclaimed.

"You know of the Hale family? After our home was burnt down, my mother and I escaped, and made it to London. Ever since, we've started our own new pack here." Declan seemed very concerned about what Jackson might say next.

"Enough with the small world connections, we need to get this pup to Talia. He needs proper training," said Cole, somewhat brutely. "Let's take him back, and then we can figure out the rest from there."

"Yes, I guess that's best," said Declan, in somewhat of a drawling voice. "I think he should meet mother, and then tell us all what's going on."

"You two seem to be under the mistaken impression that I'm going to come quietly," said Jackson, thinking about Lydia as he tried to anchor his power. He let out a growl, and extended his claws.

Both Cole and Declan transformed as well, and lunged at him. No matter how he fought back, Jackson didn't stand a chance in this two-on-one fight. Within seconds, he collapsed, blood running down his chest, as he struggled to breath.

"Well, to mother's house we go," came the now familiar drawl of Declan Hale.

Jackson felt himself being lifted off the ground by Cole, as they travelled through the park, and went to their Alpha's lair. At this moment, Jackson then blacked out again, from blood loss.

While passed out, Jackson's memory flashed back to what had happened the night before:

_The moon shone brightly on Jackson's face as he stared up at it. He could hear howling around him, and he knew there were other wolves in London, looking up at the same powerful sight as him. But he didn't quite feel like himself. _

_ As he stared out, he thought of Lydia, and her beauty. But then he remembered their last interactions. She had looked up at him, tears filling her eyes as he told her he was going to London. She told him long distance doesn't work, and that she can't be in pain anymore from him. His heart broke as the only person who loved him revoked her love._

_ It was then that Jackson looked down at his hands, under the moon, and saw the slimy claws he knew to mean one thing. He went down to the window, back into his flat and looked in the mirror. What he saw terrified him. Green, scaly skin, yellow eyes slitted like a snakes, and a long tail thrashing behind him. He let out a screech in the night and proceeded to run through the city, looking for a master. _


End file.
